Leetl Boy
by bjshaw
Summary: Harry, the 'leetle boy' is waiting in the tent before facing a dragon. This is a one shot of his encounter with Fleur as she sees his commitment to someone else, before facing his destiny. HP/HG. (something left on the 'puter)


Harry waited in the tent as the real champions stood nearly together while he watched. It was clear he was too young and inexperienced to be involved in this tournament. 'Cedric is just being nice, as if I am a child. Viktor just grunts and scowls at him, and Fleur refuses to notice any male not trying to curry her favor, and then only to sneer at them."

He noticed Hermione come to the edge of the tent and heard her voice.

"Harry!"

"Hermione?" he was surprised. I mean this was against the rules. She simply slipped between the two walls and jumped into him with a fierce hug. He hugged her back firmly, rubbing her back after a bit and enjoying the sensation more than a friend would. She pulled back some but he stopped her just before she was completely out of his arms.

"Now if we only had music to dance to," he whispered so she could just hear it.

"Come back to me," she almost growled back in his ear, "and I will keep my dance card free."

A warm wind suddenly went through the tent, causing the front flap to open. Only Fleur noticed anything and she now had a look of deep concentration, her body still shuddering at the power of that outburst. She had never seen the magical reaction she had just witnessed before, but it was a powerful relationship. She had only noticed due to her heritage which registered automatically all 'adult' behavior in her vicinity.

As she turned to look at the author of that sudden burst of magical energy, she shook at the strength in it she could still feel. It was clearly double what had been there only moments ago. Completely forgetting about the dragon for a moment she locked down her Veela heritage with all her might. It would be disastrous to lose control in this tent at this moment.

Fortunately they were interrupted by the headmaster and those running the tournament. She went through the motions of surprise, listening to the instructions, and drawing a dragon from the bag. Harry drew the final one.

"Hungarian Horntail," he shrugged. "Sir," he managed to get everyone's attention. "Is there a penalty for killing the dragon?"

"Do not treat this as a joke, young man," the ministry official growled.

"That's rude, Harry," Cedric added as Viktor just scowled. The only one in the room that was actually watching Harry's face when he said it spoke up.

"Vell," Fleur turned on the official, "vat is the anwer?" As no man could ignore her attention he finally grunted.

"Damage or death to the dragon does not penalize the champion, they are just beasts." With that out of the way the officials left in a huff.

After Harry and Fleur were the only ones left in the tent, Fleur walked right up to him.

"'arry, cest 'ermione amor? Oui?" She hadn't even realized that she spoke no English to the young man, as she now thought of him.

"Mon dieu," he said more to himself than to her, "Ceres oui." All of a sudden he realized that she was in his personal space and he could sense not only her physical self, but her magic and mind as well, as if she was trying to merge with him. Her thoughts were so open and close that he had command of her language.

He deliberately clamped down on himself, "Stop that!" he ordered, not moving but clearly meaning it.

She lept back. She had moved into seduction posture without even realizing it. Her abilities were pushed to their limits trying to get the attention of this powerful man in front of her. His magical aura must be significantly more powerful that hers, luring the susceptible Veela within the girl like a drug. She frowned and withdrew as fully as she could, knowing that if she couldn't pull herself together in a few minutes she would go out there and die facing the dragon. All she could see were surprisingly warm green eyes boring into her very center. She sat in the dirt. She had almost lost everything and all she could think about was what that lure of magic she had felt like.

Harry came over somehow sensing what had been done to her.

"Fleur," he said gently. He gave her his hand and raised her from the floor of the tent when she didn't even remember sitting down. "Go out and charm your dragon. We will not speak of this again unless you wish it." His face was serene as he looked into her eyes and she could sense the sincerity and encouragement of his words.

She smiled weakly and tried to compose herself and stepped away to the edge of the tent. Her confidence was severely shaken.

"Fleur, you can channel your magic and emotions into the task. Use your passionate heritage to overcome this obstacle like all the ones you have overcome to get into this tournament. You were chosen as a real champion," he sounded suave like a man double his age, "now go prove to them they were right about that choice."

She straightened and felt a wash of determination. Not sure if it came from him or herself; then she realized she didn't care. She smiled at him, but this time it was genuine. When the go signal sounded she almost marched out to meet her dragon, wondering where the young man who had encouraged her had come from compared to the boy she had thought she had seen earlier.

A short time later, Harry Potter walked into the arena where he had to face a dragon. He was still feeling the warm hug from Hermione. For some reason it didn't seem to be the same as those he had received before. His encounter with Fleur didn't even register in his memory as he thought about his favorite girl before suddenly looking at the death represented by claws, fangs, wings, and fire.


End file.
